


... But still will keep, a bower quiet for us

by wyntre



Series: Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "You can stay at my place if you like.", Crowley really is that Extra in his furnishings have you seen the throne he sits in to watch TV, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-Canon, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, hey! have some angst!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntre/pseuds/wyntre
Summary: Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, and the demon looked up at him, broken and weeping.Please don’t leave, I don’t think I could stand it.His yellow eyes seemed to plead with the angel.I love you. Please don’t go. I love you.





	... But still will keep, a bower quiet for us

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Endymion" by John Keats

_“You can stay at my place, if you like.”_

Crowley had made the offer with such tenderness and without expectation that Aziraphale had only put up a nominal protest. Which is how he came to be sitting on an ornately carved, far-too-large-for-a-single-entity ebony canopy bed that took up the majority of an otherwise empty, slate grey room. The bed was bordered on all sides by rich, deep scarlet velvet curtains that fell heavily to the ground, and tied back with lengths of fringed cord. It was opulent, like the other few pieces of furniture Crowley owned; and possibly more impressive than the _throne_ he loved to drape himself in while he watched TV.   
“That’s original. Bought it in 1885 on a whim. I charmed the salesman.” Crowley waved a hand at a seemingly innocuous wall, which opened outwards to form a door and a walk-in wardrobe. He rummaged for a moment and then snapped his fingers, and suddenly he was wearing a luxurious silk robe; black with a red snake winding its way up the back; and was holding another robe - this one pastel duck-egg blue with white, scalloped trim around the cuffs and delicately embroidered doves gracing the shoulders. He emerged from the wardrobe and the wall became a wall again. Aziraphale still sat on the edge of the bed, prim, proper and unmoving, as if waiting for permission.   
“There’s only one bed, angel. I don’t often share my space,” Crowley crossed the room to sit beside Aziraphale. “If this makes you uncomfortable, you can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the chair by the TV.”   
The angel glanced up at him through long eyelashes and, not for the first time, Crowley felt a strange swooping sensation in his stomach. He _really_ should probably see someone about that, maybe his corporeal form was malfunctioning. Never mind the fact that it only seemed to happen when Aziraphale looked at him like he was the only person in the universe.He'd first felt it when, unbidden and unrealised, his fingers had brushed against Aziraphale's in the ruins of the Blitz all those years ago.

“It’s not that I feel uncomfortable with it… It just feels strange to be here.” Aziraphale smiled tremulously. “It is a _very_ big bed, Crowley, do you really need all this space?”   
“Perfect for two, then,” Crowley quipped. “It’s been a long day. A long _week_. I know we don’t technically need to sleep, but it’s nice sometimes.” He held out the robe. “You don’t have to wear this, but I find sleeping is easier if you’re not wearing twenty layers.”   
Aziraphale took the proffered garment, and turned it over in his hands. It was beautiful, soft; it rippled in the dim lamplight, shifting between green, blue and appeared to be spun from glited light. “It’s lovely, where did you find it?”   
“Oh, I’ve had it lying around for a while.”   
“Not your usual attire,” Aziraphale waved a hand, and his well-worn clothes were replaced by the iridescent robe.   
“Suits you.” Crowley couldn’t find the words to tell him that he’d had both robes since 1925. He’d bought them together, the black one in his usual level of opulence, the blue one with the vaguest hope that one day, somehow, he would be able to get Aziraphale to wear it. 

Crowley released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and his shoulders slumped, as if all of a sudden, he was Atlas dropping the westernmost sky. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale placed a plump, warm hand just above the demon's knee.   
“I went to the bookshop, and the fire, and you weren’t there…” Crowley’s thin shoulders began to shake. “I thought you were dead,” he managed to choke out before breaking down completely.   
“Oh my dear boy,” The angel pulled Crowley into a hug, tucking him under his chin and unfurling his wings to envelop them both. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, Crowley’s body wracked with sobs for everything he had felt since the fire. The devastation at the thought of having lost Aziraphale and the relief of finding him again, inhabiting the not-world between discorporation and having a physical body. “My dear, my darling…” Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, and the demon looked up at him, broken and weeping. _Please don’t leave, I don’t think I could stand it._ His yellow eyes seemed to plead with the angel. _I love you. Please don’t go. I love you._

There was barely a space between them, and Aziraphale closed it with ease. And his kiss tasted of sunshine and eternal grace; and Crowley felt every ounce of sadness drain from his body; replaced by warmth and tenderness and hope.

Hope.

After what felt like a second, and an eternity, and everything in between, they pulled apart. The kiss had felt like a promise, an oath. _Please don’t break it. Please don’t break me._

They climbed into bed, and Aziraphale found it so incredibly easy to slip Crowley into his arms, holding him as if he were the only thing worth defending, and as they lay there in the dark, Crowley’s lips found Aziraphale’s again and the demon tasted of autumn afternoons and coffee and eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> The utter opulence of some dressing gowns and housecoats from the 1920s is incredible. If you do a quick google, you'll find some amazing examples. I headcannon that the 1920s was one of Crowley's favourite periods of clothing because of the androgyny; especially of women's clothing. He would 100% slay a glittering 1920s evening gown.


End file.
